


A Long Way From Home

by Guess_Im_Me



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Drugs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Smoking, alcohol and the prohibition, but tinsley is a disaster boy, i just wanted to write this, idk its probably gonna be long, platonic ricky and tinsley, ricky is a bastard man, yeah it's the 1920's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 08:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guess_Im_Me/pseuds/Guess_Im_Me
Summary: “If you could change something about your past, would you?”“Excuse me?”“If there was something that you wish you could change, wish you could have avoided or saved, would you?”“I-I’m not sure exactly what you mean, sir.”“Oh, call me Ricky. No need for formalities here.”“R-Ricky, yes.”“You haven’t answered my question.”“Oh, right. Um… I believe I would sir- ah, Ricky.”“Good. So would I.”“Although the future has always interested me, I will have to say that.”“The future, eh? As we all know, it holds endless possibilities.”





	A Long Way From Home

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is a kinda self-indulgent fic with an oc but i wanted something about these two that wasn't a romantic shaayan/tinsworth thing because i respect both of them and their girlfriends. so there's that but i hope you enjoy! i'm sorry for any grammar errors and constructive criticism is always welcome. :D

The sky was fading from the soft gray it had been to a darkened twilight, the glow of the moon barely visible behind the ever-changing landscape of clouds. A mist of rain was falling, dousing everything in a blurry haze, smearing the brilliance of the ornate street lamps across the eyes of the people passing by, cowering under alcoves or umbrellas like small animals. The buildings that lined the avenue were imposing in a certain way but the architecture displayed a strange type of grace. Sturdy, would be one way to look at it. The pleasing scene was anything but forgotten by the occupants of the car that came trundling through the street, the fogged-up windows of the black automobile giving everything outside of this filter a heavenly glow. The thin wheels glided across the wet pavement, engine contentedly puttering along. 

The man driving studied the road, eyes darting from one location to the next, cooly maneuvering the machine to avoid the worst of the puddles that had built up. The day should have been drawing to a close. Instead, here he was, mentally preparing himself for the events that were almost inevitably following the rainy drive. They would be unpleasant at best, fatal at worst. He had been through enough of these nights to know what lay in wait when the car would finally pull to a stop. 

Despite his racing thoughts, he dared not speak or even visually express the thoughts slipping through his mind a pace of a thousand miles a minute, for that was not what he had been hired to do. Well, no, hired wasn't the right word for it. 

His ‘employers,’ so to speak, owned him. Owned his body, mind, and soul. All for the reward of his little girl disappearing, safe from those who would seek to harm her. This whole mess was his fault, truthfully. He had called up too much attention, trying to halt the illegal actions of the shadows working within the city. The wrong people had gotten involved and his wife and son had paid the price. So had half of his face, but he didn’t feel a fraction as angered about the wound as he did the silenced voices of his loved ones.

So he had reached out to them. They were the only ones he knew for certain could save her. His little darling Marie, not even seven years in this world, had been placed in harm's way. She was all he had left. They agreed to protect her, to give her a chance at a future. But these were not good people by any means. For you know what they say, an eye for an eye. A life for a life. 

He wasn’t physically being held captive, per se, only scared and forever concretely held in this not-so-metaphorical prison of servitude. Scared for his and his only daughter’s safety. Scared of the men and women who held the end of his chain, allowing him only so much leeway.

Scared of the man in the backseat.

But there was nothing he could do except drive this cursed car up and down the city of L.A. and the surrounding area, delivering this and that, chauffeuring whoever they told him to. He had fallen prey to the very force he had sought to destroy not so long ago.

Focused on the road, the soft city lights filling him with a temporary calm. He would need it for the night to come.

They drove for a stretch of time, the driver watching as the buildings of the city gave way to the rocky, dead September hills so typical of the wild of Southern California. It was a peaceful place, forever in balance, fires constantly ravaging the hills of all life, only for it to come back green as could be. If only it was like that in the real world, he thought. However, it was the wrong season and the brush was now as dead as could be, spare for the desert plants that had evolved for these conditions specifically. The rain would help, for sure, but as rare as it was out this way, it was unlikely it would make much of a visible difference.

The hills too passed, and as the terrain began to flatten out, lights became visible on the horizon.

They drove into town, the buildings gradually becoming larger and more closely packed, and the driver almost sighed out loud when he caught sight of his destination. It meant that the gentle lull of the drive would soon come to an end, which he wished would never end.

The car pulled to a halt next to a brightly lit, bustling square building, three stories high. It seemed welcoming enough, but below the cheery facade lurked a monster, a beast who cared not for morals, only the dirty ways of money. However, this monster was involved in something interesting, to say the least.

The driver opened his car door with a small squeak and walked to the other side of the automobile to open the shiny black door for his passenger. He walked with neither haste nor delay, a purpose to every stride, as was expected of those in his position. Grasping the handle, he opened the door and politely offered the man an umbrella with his free hand. 

As per usual, he was ignored, brushed away with one confident stroke of the man’s gloved hand as his foot sank into a shallow stretch of dirty rainwater that had run off from the streets. The resulting splash was small but unpleasant to feel absorbing into the cloth of the driver’s pant leg. 

He straightened up and followed his passenger’s path into the golden glow of the already opened door. The short man walked with a proud, cocky air, carrying himself in a way that made it clear to those who set eyes on him that he was better than them in every way, and he knew it. A black trench coat whipped behind him in the breeze and his hair was hidden under a dark fedora, protecting his face from the gentle rain all while maintaining an air of mystery. 

“Ah, sir. You arrived earlier than expected. Nonetheless, we are happy to see you,” remarked the old butler with a stuffy old British accent, with thinning snow-white hair and thick spectacles to match. He was waiting at the door patiently, his wrinkled face calm and respectful. The driver knew that they were both in the same predicament. Bought and owned by these people, head to toe. The older man bowed to the younger and the latter nodded briefly in his direction. “Right this way, sir.”

The attendant lead both newcomers through the open door and the party of three wove throughout the crowd that had begun to disperse as the night progressed. Certainly they all looked out of place at the dimly lit joint, but that didn’t seem to matter. This place was illegal enough anyways, serving the alcoholic beverages that had been banned by the Prohibition. Funnily enough, the act had made speakeasies like this more popular than ever, even people of the law visiting from time to time. 

The people they passed ranged from tipsy to blackout drunk, with a sprinkling of sober people left in the bar to keep the peace. The air was hazy, full of smoke from the many mouths conversing at the tables and bar, nicotine pumping through their veins. Oh, how the driver longed for one, to sit and relax for once with a nice cigarette, to breathe in the soothing smoke. But that was a dream he had long since given up on. 

They were led past the gentle clamor of the people and stopped at a less-than-obvious door in the back end of the speakeasy, which was opened for the two newcomers by the old man. “In here, sir.” 

The stairs led down into darkness. Black, soupy darkness that shifted like fog. The driver had been here before, but that did nothing to help soothe his nerves. It made it worse, in fact, now that he knew what was down there and the purpose behind it. And once again, there was nothing that he could do.

His passenger stepped down without hesitation, shoes squeaking quietly against the polished wooden steps. The butler followed suit, then the driver, turning behind him to shut the adjacent door as quietly as he could. The gentle thunking of three pairs of footsteps was the only sound other than the muffled chatter and soft jazz playing from the bar. It felt like a whole different reality, and, he thought, it was as good as.

When they reached the bottom, the old man reached past the one in front and, with one finger, flicked a light switch that was almost hidden in the inky darkness. The action triggered a chain of lights to flicker to life along the hallway, illuminating dark tiled floors and white walls, with several doors on either side. It was not used often, as evident by the cobwebs and the notable amount of dust floating through the air, but it was far from decrepit. 

The butler stepped in front of his passenger, motioning for the other men to follow. They complied, a sense of uneasiness settling like the dust in the air as a pit formed in the driver’s stomach, for he knew that the world would change after tonight. The nefarious goings-on behind the doors here and the sheer power they contained weighed heavily upon his mind.

They stopped at a door on their left, a heavy-looking slab of old but sturdy wood, black paint peeling at the edges slightly. The elderly man took out a golden key form one of his many pockets and inserted it into the brass knob. After a satisfying click, he turned it and the door creaked open with a sound like the squealing of a rat.

The room inside was brightly lit, flickering bulbs hanging exposed from the ceiling, illuminating what looked to be a conglomeration of tubes, pressure gauges, and blinking lights. A team of two men in greasy overalls slaved over this machine, tossing various tools to each other as needed and working together with a sort of instinctive grace that only came with years of experience. They stopped short when they caught sight of the trio at the door, immediately attempting to make themselves look presentable for the company they had been expecting. 

“Oh, uh, h-hello sir, we, uh, weren’t expecting you for at least a half hour or so,” one of them stuttered, eyes wide. “Just needed to do some routine checking on this thing, standard procedure, then we’ll be ready.” The passenger nodded, and they got back to work, albeit a little more urgently.

The butler bowed with a remark of, “I shall go and fetch him now, won’t be more than a few minutes. Please, seat yourself.” He motioned to a few chairs in the back of the room, standing idly against the wall.

The passenger complied, sitting down in one of the worn chairs with a sweep of his dark coat, the driver settling himself beside him. He stood against the wall, shoulders squared and mouth firmly set, making sure to appear imposing and virtually unfeeling. He was about to drift back into the churning depths of his mind when he was pulled from the waters by a voice.

“Sit.”

It was oddly gentle, a brassy tenor tone that left no room for questioning, but the driver knew it could become as sharp as a razor and as strong as an axe in a moment’s notice. Prior experience had only shown him the latter. “Yes, sir,” the driver replied, stunned at this sudden show of kindness from the man. He obeyed the order and sat across from his passenger, tensing slightly. 

The driver had seen him many times before, that was for certain. Nice face, straight teeth, good eyes, dark hair cut in a stylish way, all things that pointed to the opposite of the horror that lurked beneath the mask. He would have no problem attracting a woman, and he had no problem doing so either. The poor girls, they all ended badly. Heartbroken or dead were the usual outcomes. It had no effect on the man’s conscience, which only heightened the driver’s fear of him.

The man smiled at him, a toothy grin that could mean so many things. The driver’s nerves were on fire, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he attempted to maintain a calm exterior.

“If you could change something about your past, would you?”

“Excuse me?”

“If there was something that you wish you could change, wish you could have avoided or saved, would you?”

“I-I’m not sure exactly what you mean, sir.”

“Oh, call me Ricky. No need for formalities here.”

“R-Ricky, yes.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, right. Um…” He trailed off, his mind drawn immediately to his daughter lost to him, to his wife and son whom he could not save. “I believe I would sir- ah, Ricky.”

“Good. So would I.”

“Although the future has always interested me, I will have to say that.”

“The future, eh? As we all know, it holds endless possibilities.”

The driver opened his mouth to reply but was saved by the return of the butler, now accompanied by another figure. He was not bad looking, far from it, actually. He stood proud in a maroon suit, a haughty air about him. He had some traces of Asian ancestry in his face, not unlike the man sitting across from him. They both stood and a feeling of purpose fell in the room. The two mechanics working away at the machine stopped, finally satisfied with their touch-ups. 

“Are we ready to begin?” The newcomer stated, smiling cooly at the driver’s passenger. 

“Shouldn’t there be more here to work this thing?” the shorter man queried, tilting his head slightly.

“These two are enough. They are the best of the best, I assure you.” The mechanics smiled a little at this comment, nodding their heads in affirmation. 

Satisfied, the one and only Ricky Goldsworth, wanted criminal and heir to the infamous Goldsworth family, killer of men and women alike, and all-around pretty bad dude stepped forward. His dark eyes gazed intently at the machine with a stone cold determination as he rubbed his gloved hands together.

“Well, then. Let’s get this party started.”

**Author's Note:**

> it's literally only ricky in this chapter, sorry. you'll get tinman in the next ones, don't worry.


End file.
